Once again going under,
Visiting that cold, dark palace
Where dreams seemingly come true.

Each time I visit
I become weaker,
But am still unable to leave.

That is, until
I cannot handle the pain
And my body fights it.

A continuous struggle,
A never-ending cycle.

Even so, this is far better
Than what awaits me
On the other side.

Because there is commotion,
And pain, and sharp clarity.

And I do not want to bring
This awful life
Into any deeper focus.